And you think your school is scary
by todd fan
Summary: ONESHOT Gravedale High fic, as I promised RMan I would. A chance for you to remember this show, or get to know the characters if you don't.


And you think your school is scary

By Todd Fan

Disclaimer:

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Not everyone remembers the short-lived 90's show Gravedale High. You don't **HAVE** to have seen it to understand this fic, though if you did, you earn Brownie Points (R-Man gets a cookie). I love this show, and practically worshiped it as a kid. In fact, it was the first show I ever wrote fanfic for, but the stuff has been lost to the ravages of time. No computer then. This will be a getting-to-know-you story for you guys who have never seen it before, which is probably most of you. Incidentally, I put an episode up on my youtube account if you so wish to see it.

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Max Schnider was a high school teacher. This was a fact he was very proud of. He was even more proud, however of the fact he worked in a very different sort of high school. Many teachers feel distanced from their teenaged students, there being a distinct generation gap, but Max, he was more distanced than most. In the entire school, students and faculty, he was the only living, breathing human.

When Max finally became a full fledged teacher, he found getting work harder than he had anticipated. He spent a few years being a substitute, but as a result, was never able to get to know his students, something he wanted to do. He eventually found an ad for a private school in a place called Midtown asking for someone of a 'steady disposition'. That should have been a warning sign. And even bigger warning sign was the fact the school was called **Grave**dale. Max didn't care, however, it was a permanent job, and he was up for a challenge.

He only started to realise things weren't quite normal when he arrived. The school was built in a cemetery. That really should have sent him packing. It didn't. He gathered his nerves, and entered. The hallways were filled with monsters. The sort of monsters you only read about in books or see in movies. It was in his interview with the headmistress, Ms Crone, that he realised what was going on.

Long story short, monsters were very, very real. Hiding out from human eyes, the famous monsters of old had lived, and more, had offspring. Those offspring needed teaching, and Gravedale was where they went. Understandably, it had taken Max a long time to digest this, he was still digesting it as he was shuffled off into the one class notorious for driving off it's teachers, a class on the verge of all being expelled.

His first year in Gravedale was like Dangerous Minds meets Tales from the Crypt.

The teenaged monsters, faced with a human for an authority figure, they did as all teenagers do when faced with something they Did Not Like. They rebelled. It took Max a long time to gain their trust, but he did it. A distinct barrier between races had been crossed, and Max was proud of his students, rowdy as they were. He'd even got to terms with their parents, who were just like any usual parents with teenagers, when you got down to it. Zombies thought their daughter didn't eat enough brains and was far too skinny. The Swamp Thing thought his son really needed to focus on his studies and not on par-tay-ing. Dracula wanted his son to turn the gods-damned music down when it was the middle of the day, and he was trying to sleep. Yup, if they weren't monsters, you'd think they were just your average parents.

"**BAZOOKABLAST!**"

Max ducked automatically as a rather large mace sailed past his head, embedding itself into the backboard.

"Frankentyke, can you place practise your throwing arm after class hours?", he asked, "Before someone loses a limb. Again"

Victor Frankenstein was most famous for creating the monster of his book, thing is, people didn't realise he made more. The youngest of which now got up off his desk and moodily walked over, yanking his mace out of the blackboard. He looked just like his much more famous eldest 'brother'…except he stood at about three and a half feet tall. He was cantankerous, annoying and could make a person want to throw themselves off a tall building after being in his company for mere hours.

"Don't freak out, Man", he said, "It's not like it could hurt"

Max sighed, sometimes his students forgot he was alive, and so a mace was something that could indeed hurt him. A lot.

"Just sit down, Frankentyke", he said, pulling off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Are you alright, Mr. SchniderSir?", asked Reggie, "You seem to be showing symptoms of a mild migraine"

Reginald 'Reggie' Moonshroud was the son of the Wolf-Man. He was technically a were-wolf, but in fact, the moon did nothing to him other than make him crave raw meat for a night. He looked part-boy-part-wolf all the time. He was undoubtedly been the smartest kid in his class, he learned quickly, and excelled in anything that involved him using his brain. Reggie was quiet, polite, respectful of his elders. Without meaning any puns, he was a teachers pet.

Max wasn't quite sure how Reggie ever got thrown into the 'problem' class. He'd asked Ms Crone about it once, and she'd mumbled something about him not fitting in anywhere, and he disturbed the class with all his 'human stuff talk'. Reggie really did quite like human gadgets and gizmos, but Max never really saw it as a problem. Then again, he'd soon learned that traditionally, enjoying anything 'those freaky humans' enjoyed was a bit of a taboo in the monster world. Max didn't mind, though. Reggie was the first of his students to accept him, and would always be grateful for the Lycanthropes support.

"I'm fine, Reggie", he said, "Don't panic"

"Yeah, Wolf-Dude", piped up Gill, "take a breath or seven!"

Gill Waterman was the son of the creature of the Black Lagoon. He was as tall as Frankentyke was short, almost six and a half feet tall. It was amusing they were the best of friends, as they made a vertically confusing pair. Green and scaly, Gill adored the water, especially surfing, loved nothing more than catching the waves. He was the biggest beach bum Max had ever met.

"I am calm", said Reggie placidly, rearranging his glasses on his furry face, "I am just concerned for our educator"

"Ladies and gentlemonsters, Reggie Moonshroud, newest member of the bleeding heart club", said an incorporeal voice.

Sidney was the son of the invisible man, and his wife. Being invisible himself, Sid tried to draw as much attention as he possibly could to himself by being the class clown. He could make a joke about anything, could imitate anyone's accent (he was particularly proud of his Michael Jackson) and as a result was seen as rather annoying. Not that he let a little thing like a class-room full of death glares stop him.

"Someone mention blood?"

Max looked up at the window as a pale, pointed eared boy flew in through the window on bat-like wings attached to either arm and side.

"Wow, Vinnie, once again you have provided yourself reliable by being reliably late", said Max.

Vinnie landed and snapped his fingers, his wings vanishing into the confides of his leather jacket.

"Yo, Teach, at least I showed up this time, huh?", he said, walking over to his seat, sitting down and putting his feet up on his desk.

Vincent 'Vinnie' Stoker was the son of the infamous Count Dracula. The Count had emigrated from Transylvania with his three wives before Vinnie had been born, apparently getting sick of the torches and pitchforks. He'd given his son the surname 'Stoker' after the writer who'd made him famous. Vinnie gave a bored yawn, showing off his rather sharp, pointy fangs.

"So, what's happenin' in the land of boredom?", he asked.

Max took a deep breath. Vinnie had always been Max's biggest obstacle as a teacher in Gravedale. Heck, Vinnie was his biggest obstacle in his entire teaching career. Vinnie was the 'cool kid', and boy, did he know it. He stuck his feet up on his tombstone desk (despite being told time and time again not to do it) and would refute anything Max would say. It took a long time to convince the vampire he wasn't a bad guy, but he'd managed it. Just about.

"We're studying something that should interest you, Vinnie", said Max, walking over and automatically brushing the vampires feet off his desk, "The circulatory system"

"Why bother with that, Schnider?", asked a snake-haired girl, "Most of us don't have one anymore!"

Medusa, or better known as 'Duzer' was a gorgon. And a valley-girl. She patted the three green snakes that made up her hair and folded her arms, arching a brow at her teacher.

"Because we learn things that apply to everyone, not just one group of people", said Max, "It lets you get a better view of the world"

He walked back to the blackboard and pointed at his drawing of a heart.

"Can anyone other than Reggie tell me the difference between an artery and a vein?"

"One begins with V and the other begins with A?", tried Cleo.

Cleofatra was the daughter of the mummy. Why her father had given her such a cruel name Max never figured out, but she lived up to it…probably due to the fact the girl could eat her own bodyweight in a matter of minutes.

"Other than that, Cleo", sighed Max, then shook his head, "Vinnie, lets see if you can actually answer a question right for once in your school career…we could be making history here"

Vinnie gave a fanged smirk.

"Arteries are harder to get into, but they give a better payload"

Max paled slightly.

"Well…..yes, I suppose that's right…to a fashion", he said, "Arteries have thicker walls than veins, because the blood in it is under more pressure than it is in veins"

"It takes ages to get a decent meal if you hit a vein instead", said Vinnie, combing his black quiff, putting his feet back on his desk.

"Vinnie, please stop talking about your terrible eating habits", said a green-skinned girl in an accent afforded only to the Southern and rich, "It's making me lose ma'h appetite, really, it is"

Blanche was a zombie, quite rich and well off, living in a bayou nearby Gill's swampland home. She had a bad habit of spending more money than she could afford, and had a better-than-thou attitude towards her fellow monsters.

"Lay off Vinnie, Blanche", snapped Duzer, giving her a glare, "He can't help he drinks blood, he's a vampire!"

It was a well known fact that Duzer had quite a thing for Vinnie, well known to everyone in fact except the vampire in question, who was completely clueless to the fact…or if he knew, he never made anything of it.

"Blanche has a right to an opinion as anyone else", said a blue-skinned short boy in a waistcoat, "And she's right, Stokers weird"

J.P.Ghastly (The Third) was also a zombie, the richest monster in the school, and as such, Blanches boyfriend (when she felt like it). If it couldn't be bought, he wasn't normally interested, and he was never happy that Vinnie was the coolest guy in the school, despite not being as rich as he was.

Vinnie didn't seem bothered about the argument starting up about him, having started to doze off on his seat. He always complained it was very unfair to expect a vampire to be fully functional during the daytime, as a result he often took 'bat naps' when he felt the need to crash. As he was a fledgling vampire, and thus still able to go in sunlight (with sunscreen) his father had told him to go to school, or be sent back to Translyvania. Vinnie chose the former.

"Can we all just calm down and get back to the lesson plan, please?", asked Max desperately.

"I think you can safely say that is a failed mission, Mr. SchinderSir", said Reggie, peering out from his book, "The lunch bell will sound in exactly 3 point two seconds"

_**BRRIIIING**_

"I love your spooky werewolf powers, Reg", grinned Frankentyke, racing from his seat like his afterlife depended on it, "Casketerea, here I come!" (1)

Max carefully sidestepped his class as they made a mad dash for food, all served up by the school chef, Sal Monella. Max had learned after the first week that Sal only served food that was either mouldy, slimy or still alive…he took his own food from now on, he didn't have to worry about getting his stomach pumped then. He shook his head, righting an upturned chair, heading to the staff room, narrowly missing the schools undead, green, tyre-marked cat, Clawford.

It was a good job he loved his kids, or he may have gone mad by now.

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(1) - No, that is not a typo, it really is the **CASKET**erea.

Woot. There you go. Man, this could very well be the first Gravedale fanfiction ever written. Trust me to love an obscure show. If you liked, go check out my youtube page, and enjoy the Gravedaley goodness. Yeah, I'll have more Gravedale fanfics, when time allows. Do review, and thanks for reading!


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